


Off Kilter

by RadioactiveRoulette



Series: What Lies Below [1]
Category: Baldur's Gate, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), baldur's gate 3
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gen, Party Dynamics between scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadioactiveRoulette/pseuds/RadioactiveRoulette
Summary: A night at camp proves restless for even the most devoted drow cleric.
Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Character(s), Astarion/Charname (Baldur's Gate), Astarion/Female Charname (Baldur's Gate)
Series: What Lies Below [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985663
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	Off Kilter

Camp was almost too quiet on nights like this, especially for Cyderi. Maybe she just wasn't used to the surface yet, most races swore by it, but for all of its popularity it still lacked the echoing sounds that often helped her meditate within mere moments of setting to the task. As it stands, she feels more aches now than she did before. Huffing to herself once more, she refocuses. Arms open, gently resting on crossed knees, truly to the untrained eye, she would pass as a picture of true enlightenment. Eyes straining to stay shut, she curses under her breath as her ears listen for familiar dripping stalactites or the crash of surface waterfalls pouring into chasms leading winding paths to the Glimmersea. Her thinking seems loud enough to rouse the snoring wizard in the bedroll to her right. A smile cracks her face before an eye pops open to see Gale tossing and turning momentarily before grumbling unrecognizable noises and flopping aggressively to his other side.

Under the guise of saving her traveling companions from her overactive mind, she relaxes her poor imitation of a trance and slumps forward on an exhale. Cyderi stands, rolling her shoulders. Striding quickly on soft steps, she moves towards the slope out of their camp, heading up to the post. Clearly incapable of being a functional elf this night, she could remove her disruptive presence from the camp, perhaps even relieve Astarion from his watch. She wonders briefly, if Astarion's fighting would improve with a full night's rest. He'd been volunteering for most every watch, and while no one had questioned it yet, it seemed a bit strange. Cyderi shrugs to herself as she winds along the path, clearly he was a far more functional elf than herself. 

Climbing the muddy ridge the group had defined as their lookout post, Cyderi frowns at the quite obvious lack of high elf that meets her arrival. Casting a cursory glance across the camp, she sees no sign of the snobbish surface elf, but the remaining members of the camp do seem blissfully unaware of his absence, sleeping soundly in their own peculiar ways. 

Shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts she whispers to the still night air. "Right. Well I can't exactly leave camp unguarded. Astarion seems capable enough, even in that frilly collar of his. I'll just take watch until he returns, or until this shift is over… and then I can go look for him." 

"Who's lucky enough to warrant a search party from our peerless leader, hmm?" The voice reverberates directly in her left ear and her breath catches sharply on a shaky exhale. 

Quickly clearing her throat and adopting a firm tone, Cyderi tries to shake the unexpected breathiness from her voice and pivots to face him. "So leaving during your watch, is this common occurrence then?" Her heart beats quickly, frustrating her immensely.

Astarion steps back and stands to his full height, sigh pushing past his lips in mock irritation as he purses his lips into a put upon pout. "Ever direct and ever boring, as expected." He seems to inspect the cuff of his shirt with exquisite interest, already tuning out of the conversation she hasn't even begun. Her eyes narrow briefly, ire flaring at his dismissal. 

"I am ever so sorry that we would deign to expect you to do any watching during your watch. Truly, we should lower these impossibly high standards when you're involved." 

Astarion rolls his eyes, dismissing the accusation with a wave of his hand as he sinks to the ground and eases a dagger from his boot. Eyes not leaving her own, he pulls a slightly damp cloth from a bag nearby before he begins cleaning the blade. He continues looking her over in silence before clicking his tongue in mock sympathy. 

"Yes, please berate my observational skills after being entirely unaware that I was within earshot. You've not a clue what I was doing, could have been protecting that pretty little skull from all sorts of monsters, you know." 

Cyderi frowns, wholly disinterested in being mocked. " _You_ haven't a clue of what I was aware. Don't flatter yourself." 

"Truly! I better not, since you're so eager to do so for me." Astarion smirks again, wider this time. His movements over the blade are sporadic, cleaning spots that seem to exist only in his mind.

The man is insane, Cyderi is sure of it. A few moments pass in silence. Content that this altercation is behind them, Cyderi turns back to survey the camp. She hears a soft 'snick' behind her, and assumes he has sheathed his blade. Angling her head to toss a cursory glance back at him, she watches as he languidly stretches to his full height. She turns to give him her full attention and slides on loose rock and slick mud. He swiftly closes the distance between them, arm bracing on the crumbling stone to her back. "Darling, if you wanted to get close, you needn't go to such elaborate means." His voice is low, a rumble lazily drifting over her cheek and she immediately thanks Ilmater for her obsidian complexion. 

Her voices barely shakes when she speaks. "What are you on about?" His slow, even breathing tickles her cheek. It's been ages since she's been quite this close to anyone else, and she forces herself to maintain a level head. 

Astarion hums softly in response, ignoring her question.

"Astarion, what…?" Cyderi focuses her eyes to meet his own, and realizes his gaze is locked in line with her jaw. Exhaling slowly to clear her head, she brings her arm up between them - _distance to think, distance to breathe_ \- and brushes her fingertips against the white tattoo curving along her jaw and temple. Her voice scratches a bit as she near whispers "They are tattoos of devotion. A sign of endurance, placed with painstaking precision over the course of a fortnight to show dedication." 

As if just seeing them, Astarion blinks quickly and nods, moving abruptly out of her space with a fraction of the grace he'd only just exhibited when breaching it mere moments before. Cyderi sees his features twist with something wholly unrecognizable for a moment, and then just as quickly he smooths a smirk back into place.

"I wouldn't know of such devotion, but I imagine you're quite the accomplished cleric." His voice is distant now, a lackluster facsimile of his normal cadence. 

She sees his distance as derision, and her earlier vulnerability is easily dismissed. "Well you'd know it better than most, you've made dying a second profession." She shoots back, eyes narrowing, but he still does not meet her gaze. Astarion stood to boil her blood on her best days, his pomp and pageantry a far cry from the comfort she found in direct approach. Days like this, days where she could find no solace in stillness, he only served to unsteady her further. She watches his smile grow a touch wider at her rancor. Like he's won some unspoken battle of wits. Like she's lost. 

She pushes past him to make her way back down the ridge and towards the river, chiding herself as she beat her hasty retreat. Her problems are her own, she should stop finding fights with the rogue. If only this was the first. If only it would be the last. Taking a seat on the bank, she once again assumes a picture perfect imitation of meditation. 

Tranquility remains out of reach.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
